If you wish to familiarize yourself with the destination "wits end" I can inform you that it is located at the end of a 30 hour trip involving two long haul flights, with a baby in tow.
Specifically it's where you finally get home, shower, and hit the sack. Exhausted.
And bub decides sleeping is for suckers.
It's daytime, in her mind. Yet she's also confused, overstimulated and tired.
Bub has a cry, mom has a cry.
Finally, after three hours of this: bliss. FIVE hours of sleep ladies and gentlemen. I have so much energy today. Cleaning and sweeping and making plans. Brain is admittedly a little mushy. But you know.
Brain was mush yesterday going through quarantine as well. No less than three people in uniform asked me if I had any food. Most importantly, did we take any food off the aircraft? No. No. No.
Come home and discover three little packets of peanuts inside handbag.
Woops. Is this what is known as a "fail"?
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